


The Memories We Made Are Grains of Sand in the Hourglass

by RegalMisfortune



Series: The World is Painted in Hymns from Lips of Mere Strangers [6]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Gotoro Empire-Ferngill War, This can be read as a standalone piece, Worldbuilding, dialogue practice too, especially when i have a lot of ideas but none want to actually be helpful, just trying to get back into writing for this fandom, who needs sleep when you can write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:30:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalMisfortune/pseuds/RegalMisfortune
Summary: Years before Gunther became the curator of the museum in Pelican Town, he was doing research thousands of miles away under the desert sun.





	The Memories We Made Are Grains of Sand in the Hourglass

Klo was a fascinating place. A dangerous, dry, wild place, but fascinating all the same.

Gunther stepped into the evening sunlight on the terrace, the warm, arid breeze no longer holding the scorching heat of midday. It cleared his nose of the scent of old parchment and settled dust of the collections he had been working in, replacing it with the smell of hot sand and spices he couldn’t quite decipher from the city below as the citizens readied themselves for their evening meal.

He took the moment of peace by himself to slip his hat back onto his head, no longer indoors and thus having to pertain to the customs of the local people. It wasn’t something he disliked- the customs of others were important to him, and he wished not to accidentally insult someone. But he did miss wearing his hat, pulling the blue brim over his eyes to block out the rays of light from the reddening horizon. The familiar weight centered him, in an odd way, but the Kloians would rather see his hair, now long enough to where they weren’t giving him concerned and sympathetic looks at the sight.

The longer the hair, the happier their life has been thus far, as the tradition was, so deeply followed that they would worry even the rare foreigner like himself and make sure they were taken care of.

Gunther found it all touching and amusing at the same time, and had let them fret over his wellbeing without complaint. They were such tactile people, even with the language barrier between them they conveyed their concerns through gestures and touches. Not pushy, simply curious and worried over his health.

It was sad how many countries on this side of the world viewed the Kloians as mere barbarians, uncivilized in the ways most were. So what if electricity wasn’t common, and that there were no cars nor computers. They lived their lives to the fullest, with the warmest and most open hearts he had ever seen from strangers. The entire populace was of like minds, always compassionate and generous, even if one under their attention wasn’t worth it. Even if the person of their interest was a foreigner who could barely speak to any but three, as only three in the entirety of the city that could understand even a word outside of their native tongue.

Those three he could communicate in Gotorian, the words slow but enough to get by. Gunther was far more fluent in it than any of they, but it was enough to get by.

But there was one who, surprisingly, also knew Ferngillian. And he had become something of a translator for the archeologist during his stay here.

“Bored already?” came from the doorway of the terrace, the voice deep yet smooth with the accent that the Kloian language gave the Ferngillian words.

“Just a break,” Gunther replied with ease, turning his head enough from the scenery to peer over his glasses at the much taller man as he approached to gaze out over the railing alongside him.

Rising over Gunther at eight feet, the Kloian had his thick, wild hair tied into tight braids, all banded together at the base of his neck to keep from tickling the tips of his sharp ears. His shoulders were thrice as broad, his face painted with a curved, triangular pattern in teal running under his eyes and over his cheeks, with three circles rising up the bridge of his large, curved nose. To anyone else, the man would be intimidating, but as the royal purple eyes settled to gaze down at Gunther, there was a softness in his gaze, pairing with the kind smile that had drawn Gunther to the gentle giant’s friendship.

They had met, quite accidentally, one day when Gunther had gotten very lost returning to the collections during the first week of his stay after the offered meal. He nearly bashed a door into the taller man’s face, to which Ahura had cut off any and all apologies by laughing to near tears before squatting down enough to grin at Gunther at eye-level and told him that he had a strong hand for such a small person in thick-accented Ferngillian.

Not that Gunther was small- while over six foot was tall for human standards, anything less than two-thirds to seven foot was considered short. Anything less than six was positively tiny. And no wonder, compared to Ahura’s towering height almost two feet more than his own. It was a mere point of humor now, and Ahura was such a gentle creature for a man of his size, that such pokes and prods were met with laughs and smiles.

It had been far too easy to grow used to the man’s presence, to have someone to talk who could understand each other and wasn’t looking down their nose at Gunther for being a foreigner like so many other countries did.

“Your stay here is almost over,” Ahura murmured, causing the archeologist to sigh, leaning against the stone rails on his arms.

“I know. Sixty days go by so fast.”

Sixty days was what he was granted, to go through and research some of the gathered Kloian artifacts to help ascertain their use and origins. As an outsider, it had been a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that he quickly took hold of and ran with. He had been in the Fern Islands at the time, and it was a quick trip to one of the outlying countries outside of the Gotoro Empire’s jurisdiction and follow the mountain passes towards the arid region that was nestled beyond. They had been happy to receive him, even with the difficulties of language. Their collected histories were numerous, and there were few capable of going through them locally. While they didn’t trust outsiders for stealing their artifacts in the past, they had taken Gunther in warmly almost from the get-go. Perhaps they could sense that he was honest in his request for study, or there was something more to the Kloians than anyone would admit.

He had so much work done, so many notes that had been shared in translation for both of their uses, to share the knowledge of his discoveries and thoughts on items that had their true purposes forgotten long ago. But there was so much that was still to be done, thousands of artifacts left to see, documents to peruse through. And yet while Gunther craved to soak in the sea for an entire day to help recover from the drying heat and wash off the fine dust that covered every surface of his being without fail, his heart wanted to stay in Klo, to learn more of their culture, their people, their history.

There was so much to learn, but, alas, he had no time left to spare.

“You are always welcome to come back to visit,” Ahura’s voice brought Gunther back to the present, blinking up at the warm, understanding gaze that the Kloian gifted him. “My bonded would be happy to meet you. And my children as well. Jahangir would most certainly try to drag you off to explore some of the old ruins buried in the desert sands if it meant an adventure with someone else who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty in crawling around.”

“I’m sure she would,” Gunther couldn’t help but smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Is this the same daughter that brought home a Kilophant?”

“When she was still a toddler,” Ahura confirmed. “Ziba was both impressed and disappointed at the same time. I was surprised she decided not to keep it.”

There was so much pride and love in his voice when he spoke of his family. It made Gunther smile along, warm with the radiance the other expelled. He had lived far longer than perhaps anyone knew of, especially here when the people had such long lives, but it was such a rare treat to see someone who was devoted and loving with the entirety of their family through thick and thin. Ahura always had good things to say, and his complaints were more exasperated fondness than ire. And he had such a large family too- with ten children to help take care of on top of his duties in working in the upper echelons of the government.

And yet, the Kloian managed without a second thought.

“Your offer is kind, Ahura,” Gunther finally said after a comfortable silence fell between them. “But I do not know when I will be able to return here next.” He had already received word before he went off the grid of an excavation that could use his assistance, as well as an offer of a teaching position back in Ferngill. He wasn’t too sure what he wanted to do next, but he had until he reached access to a computer to decide.

“Always letting the wind take you,” Ahura replied, but his tone was understanding. “Well, if the winds do take you back here, our door will always be open to you.”

“And if you so happen to come visiting where I am,” Gunther added on with a quirk of his lips. “Then I pray you learn how to duck through my doorway.”

A rumbling laugh echoed across the terrace, Ahura shaking his head as he reached over and slapped Gunther on the back, nearly bowling him over the railing.

“Yes, I shall learn,” he remedied, eyes glinting with mirth. “Since most are so favorable in making entrances so short.”

“You just need to stop being so massive,” Gunther returned, pushing away from the railing with Ahura quick to follow. “Otherwise you’ll be forced to sleep outside.”

“And miss seeing your beautiful face, **_Ulhar_**? I think not.”

Gunther would miss this banter, he lamented internally as the pair walked off the terrace as the sun finally settled below the horizon for the night, stepping back into the familiar halls that he had spent the last two months wandering. It wasn’t often that Gunther found such genuine, wondrous people in his travels, but Ahura was one of the few he was proud to call friend. And, perhaps, the next time they met, he would tell the friendly giant his not-quite-so little secret, trusting the man with the information he dared not to say to anyone, ever.

Yet unbenounced to either of them, Gunther would never see Ahura Shadhavar again.


End file.
